Relativity
by smelyalata
Summary: Leonard McCoy always took pride in his self control. But one conversation with the Captain and one visit to the sickbay from a certain Russian Ensign later, these carefully erected walls begin to crumble down. Chekov/McCoy. Work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

Hellooo my good readers (: ! Welcome to fanfic number UNO. Never done this before... so don't hate, appreciate ;)

I'm not quite down with Chekov's accent, so, he speaks normally...mostly. Just imagine the accent for yourself, because I often find it hard to read when his words are all weirded. its not mY grammar that's bad..its Chekov's. So blame the Russian.

And I seriously am not sure if this is going anywhere. I lose my train of thought easily.

P to the S, I don't own Star Trek, or any witty disclaimers for that matter.

Apologies,

The Management.

This is basically a sort of intro.

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"So, who is it?"

"....I have no idea who or what you're talking about." mumbled the Chief Medical Officer on the USS Enterprise, and current victim of James T Kirk's nosey tendencies. He averted his eyes away from the Captain's and busied himself with checking a medical device on the opposite side of the room.

Jim Kirk observed from his seat in the sickbay, awaiting his regular checkup as his old friend stomped around the medical area, mumbling angrily about "idiotic questions" then, "unacceptable commitments to routine medical treatments".

Usually, the Captain was able to lie his way out of a trip such as this one, as he did not particularly enjoy being poked and prodded by doctors for half an hour only to find out that he was in perfect condition. This time however, McCoy had taken it upon himself to storm onto the bridge and drag the helpless Captain off to the sickbay, despite his pleas for the rest of the crew to help him. In the end, his 'faithful' crewmembers simply grinned at his plight, or in Spock's case, raised an eyebrow in response then continued with their work.

Due to the fact that he was very unhappy with his current position and the doctors involvement with it, Kirk had taken it upon himself to badger his CMO about his latest finding in the man's supposedly non-existent love life.

"Come on Bones, you know exactly what - OUCH!" he yelled as McCoy unceremoniously jammed a hypospray into his neck.

"Sometimes Captain, you need to keep out of my damn business. I don't need to tell anyone personal stuff about my life. Especially _you_. I've known you for years, and the minute I say something, the whole ship will be aware of it within minutes. You're like a teenage girl when it comes to gossip, Jim."

"So, you _do_ admit that there's someone that's caught your eye!" Kirk said with a wink. "I bet it's that pretty Lieutenant down in engineering, eh? I saw you two exchanging glances in the mess hall last night; she seemed pretty interested in you." Grinning, Kirk jumped down from the examination table. "Am I done here?"

"Yes, you're done, now get the hell outta here Jim, and take your dumbass questions with you." McCoy shook his head angrily. "And no, I am not even the slightest bit interested in that blasted Lieutenant! She seems enough, sure, but the only reason I even took a second glance at her was to try and figure out what color her skin was under all that darn makeup."

Jim turned on his way out the door, "Weellll then, no need to get snappy with me Bones, I was just wondering. But now," he smirked, "I have a much better idea of who's got you so interested."

"What? - Jim, when the hell have I even suggested that I was interested in someone? Or is this just you making up bullshit for your own entertainment.... Like that rumor you started about Scotty sleeping in engineering!" McCoy unsuccessfully tried to push Kirk out the door.

"- That one's actually true though." Kirk said. "I've seen it myself. And you've been in a much better mood lately... you know, less PMS-ish. Except for now of course..So I had a hunch that somebody was involved. A friend's intuition is never wrong." Kirk smirked triumphantly.

"God damnit Jim! Just get out before I stun your ass and really give you a reason to be here!" The doctor yelled irritably and finally closed the door on the Captain, only to hear a snort of laughter ring out in the hallway after him.

"Damn nosey farmboy...."

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Back on the bridge, Ensign Pavel Chekov was not having a good day, and it wasn't because of the usual things that caused him to be unhappy. He hadn't fallen of a walkway in engineering (which happened way more than he cared to admit), the replicators in the mess hall weren't broken (oh, the horror), and he hadn't once even been cooed at or teased because of his accent (both of which were daily occurrences). No, in general terms, the day was going quite fine. The cause of his unhappiness was a simple comment made a few hours earlier by his best friend and fellow helm officer, Hikaru Sulu.

_~a few hours earlier ~_

"Mr. Sulu, plot a course to the Kardashien system, there's some cargo we need to drop off. A few of us will probably have to beam down onto Orthios for a short conference with the Ambassador as well. This whole trip shouldn't take longer than a few days, then we're back to Earth for some well-earned shore leave." Kirk smiled happily, "So, you all better be performing well and make this your best damn mission so far."

"Yeah, like we all don't bust our asses every single time," snorted Sulu from his place at the helm.

"Da, but the Keptin is probably just excited to finally go back home," offered the young navigator to his right, "We have been away for very long time, no? I look forward to the trip home as much as Mr. Kirk does"

"Of course, but-" The helmsman's reply was cut off by a stern-faced McCoy striding onto the bridge and grabbing the captain's arm, then proceeding to drag him out of his much-loved Captain's chair. Kirk grunted in surprise, trying to evade the almost matronly wrath of the Chief Medical Officer.

"Arghh, hey, easy there Bones, whats all this about?" exclaimed Kirk, feigning innocence.

"I think you know exactly why I'm here Jim. Two words: routine checkup. Which you've conveniently missed FOUR of these last few months." growled Bones, obviously winning the battle of strength and pulling Kirk across the bridge.

"Awwwh, you know, I had actually planned to come down for that later on today." Kirk attempted to pull away, but the doctor's grip remained firm.

"Shove it, Captain. You're coming with me now, because I know if I leave you to your own devices, you'd never enter the sickbay at all. So get off your ass and come with me." He accentuated these words by forcefully pushing Kirk over to the turbolift.

Kirk turned pleadingly to his crew, "Hey guys, help a brother out here..please?"

Uhura grinned from her console, "I don't think it would be wise for us to try and go against the doctor's wishes, _Captain_."

"Yeah, but don't worry, we'll remain here, 'performing well' as always," Sulu joked, "Enjoy yourself, sir."

The bridge crew laughed at their Captain's face as he was pulled into the turbolift. And Spock raised his eyebrow. Slightly.

"Fascinating."

Within seconds everyone had resumed work like nothing had happened, paying no notice to Kirk's absence. Meanwhile, Sulu and Chekov began their daily exchange of gossip as they maintained the pretence of working diligently at the helm.

"Have you noticed that Spock and Uhura haven't even looked at each other all day?" Sulu glanced to where the Vulcan sat on the other side of the room. "I think they've gotten into another row."

Chekov shrugged, "I do not notice or payed much attention the dynamics of Mr. Spock's relationship, Hikaru. I just assumed that the Commander was in bad mood. And even if he is mad, they will make up soon, no?"

Sulu shook his head, "Ughh, Pavel, you've got a lot to learn about relationships. Not everything is sunshine and rainbows."

A look of confusion passed over the Ensign's face "What is sunshine and rainbows have to do with Mr. Spock?"

The helmsman stared at his friend incredulously, "It's...a phrase Pavel. I just mean that a relationship, especially one like Spock and Uhura's is harder than it looks. Take it from me, before you find that out the hard way."

Now it was Chekov's turn to look surprised. He knew that relationships and interacting with others were not his forte, but now it was blatantly obvious that even his best friend doubted his dating experience. He stared hard at his console. It wasn't really _his_ fault that girls were more interested in pinching his cheeks and squealing about how 'adorable' he was that going out to dinner with him. Not like things such as that really bothered him. He had never really taken an interest in girls, but this was beginning to scare him. Even the thought of being gay made him cringe. Having grown up in a very conservative, upper-class Russian family, Chekov had been raised to look down upon homosexuality of any kind. So, as a child, his father had tried to get him to date and become interested in as many rich, Russian aristocrats as possible, but none of them ever caught his eye. His family simply passed this non-interest off as Pavel's dedication to his schooling, and he only got away from the forced dates when he enrolled in Starfleet, and entered a new, not so narrow-minded world.

Now, he sat at the helm, lost in his thoughts. What if Hikaru already suspected he wasn't interested in girls? What if he was going to lose his best and first real friend? Or what if he was just being overly paranoid? These thoughts consumed him as he continued to absentmindedly press buttons on his console.

Yes, today was not going to be a good day for Pavel Andreivich Chekov.

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rachacha biznats ;) im playing zelda while writing this..... story of my sad, lame life..

Review. You don't necessarily have to read.


	2. Chapter 2

The com rang out in Chekov's quarters the following morning. He recognized Bone's voice.

"_Hey, kid, I need you to get your ass down to the sickbay sometime this morning, I know Alpha shift doesn't start for a few more hours, so don't try to get out of this. I don't want everyone else on the bridge turning into the Captain and 'forgetting' their checkups. So you're all coming down today."_

The young Ensign grinned as he heard the message. No matter how grumpy and irritable the doctor was, he always made the young Russian smile with his sarcastic, dour ways of speaking. He yawned and turned over in his bed to look the clock. 9:30 in the morning, and he was still tired. He assumed that's what he got for staying up and brooding over the last day's conversation. Slowly, he rolled over and in a very non-graceful fashion, flopped off the bed and onto the floor, lying there as he tried to force himself into wakefulness.

"You know, it's not natural to sleep on the floor, and it's bad for your back."

Chekov started at Sulu's voice coming from inside his room. He gumbled, "How did you get inside here?"

The Asian-American walked across the room and poked Chekov with his foot. "We have a joint bathroom, remember? And you conveniently left your door to it open, so I decided to stop by and see if you wanted to come to the mess hall for some breakfast with me."

"Nyet, sorry, no, thank you Hikaru. I am just going to sickbay to get checkup over first, then I will meet you downstairs, yes?" Chekov groaned as he lifted himself off the floor. He then stumbled sleepily across his immaculately clean room over to his closet and pulled out his Starfleet uniform, then headed to the bathroom to get ready.

"Alright, see you after then Pavel," called Hikaru, "and make sure Bones doesn't know you haven't eaten breakfast yet, eh? Or you'll probably get to witness a rant on 'healthy eating in underaged, over-stressed young Ensigns. Or something like that."

"Pavel smirked at the thought, "No worries Hikaru, I will see you in very short time. I am in good shape; the doctor will have nothing to complain about." He accentuated the point by cartwheeling out of the bathroom and joining his friend at the door. "Race you to the turbolift?"

Sulu's smile said it all. Without warning, he bolted past Chekov and into the hallway.

"Cheater!" yelled the Russian as he started off after him. Within seconds he had overtaken his friend and made it to the doors of the lift. "You know, the Russians invented running."

Sulu laughed, "Ha, you wanna solve this with a sparring match, Pasha?" He lightly punched his friend in the arm as he caught up with him.

"Ouch! See, look what you have done," said Chekov, holding his arm with a look of mock hurt, "Now I will have bruise on arm, and will have to tell the doctor about the horrible person that has done this to me. How does this make you feel, Hikaru?"

"Pretty damn good actually." came Sulu's joking reply. Laughing, the two entered the now available turbolift, just as Spock exited, staring after the two with a look of utter incredulity.

"....Fascinating....."

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Chekov hesitated slightly at the doors of the sickbay. Sulu had long since gotten off the turbolift and headed to the mess hall, and the navigator stood in the spotless hallway, completely alone. From the sounds of angry mumbling and banging inside, McCoy was in another one of his moods, but times where he wasn't angry at something were few and far between. The doctor also seemed to have a low tolerance for the young Ensign, so Pavel intended to make this visit a quick one. He took a deep breath and strode through the doors, careful not to run into the various medical staff that scurried around.

"He-hello, Doctor McCoy?" Chekov timidly stepped forward. The doctor turned around.

"What? Oh, it's about time you got here, Ensign. Get up on the table, this shouldn't take long. Just standard procedure." Chekov obliged, and sat, waiting for his next instruction. He noticed that the doctor had calmed down considerably since he entered the room.

"And relax kid, I'm not going to hurt you," McCoy prodded him with and instrument, "Loosen up a bit. Ok, sit up straight. Now, take off your shirt for a minute please." The young Russian did so, but not without a tiny hint of a blush reaching his cheeks. He tried to remain relaxed as the doctor continued his examination.

_He's in good shape for being so young. _Thought McCoy, letting his eyes wander along the young man's toned pectorals. Lean arm muscle lead down to what appeared to be a delicate pair of hands. His calves suggested that the boy generally kept his whole boy in top condition. _He's...._

"Perfect." He stopped. He had spoken out loud.

" Sir?"

"Nothing, Ensign. You're in good shape. So try to keep it that way." _Now _that_ didn't sound creepy..._ He shook himself. The kid was seventeen! Even thinking about him in such a way was wrong on multiple levels. Trying to take his mind off what was in front of him, he attempted to engage in conversation with the Ensign. "You a runner, kid?"

"Da, sir, it is something I enjoy very much. I even won the Starfleet Academy Marathon when I was fifteen." he said proudly. The doctor couldn't help but grin a bit at the kids accent. All his 'v's sounded like 'w's, and vice versa. Pavel noticed his change of mood.

"Is something wrong, sir?"

"No, no." He knew that the boy was probably sick of being ridiculed and bothered about his accent. "And I'd heard about that, actually. Everyone was all hyped up about the kid that outran every athlete in all of Starfleet."

"Da, most people do not expect much of me because I am so young, it gets frustrating, sometimes." He frowned, "Sorry, I do not mean to complain."

McCoy just shook his head, "Hey, I don't blame you," he stopped himself from calling Chekov 'kid'. "Alright, last thing, can you touch your toes? It's just a flexibility test."

Chekov gracefully jumped off the table and bent over, almost in half, and touched his toes. "Like this, sir?" The doctor mentally slapped himself as he took a voyeuristic glance at the young man's, although seemingly perfect, rear end. _Ughh, Leonard, you've outdone yourself in the 'inappropriate' category today.. _

"Yes, and don't call me 'sir', just McCoy."

"Alright, sir...McCoy." Chekov grinned in his goofy way as he straightened up. "Is this all?"

"Yes.... now get going." All traces of the doctor's former mood were gone. "Get! You're taking up space."

"Aye, sir!" Chekov hastily retreated out the door to meet with his friend, who hopefully still remained in the mess hall. "And thank you, McCoy!"

Bones watched as the boy left. Thank him? For what? Having inappropriate thoughts about the underage navigator?

"No wonder Kirk has taken to calling the kid 'jailbait...' " muttered McCoy as he went about his duties, trying to get a certain pair of big, hazel eyes out of his head.

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Yet again, review please..and read if necessary ;)


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3 – and the fun continues. This will mostly be Chekov, 'cause no one can ever have too much Russian jailbait._

_PS I know that Chekov's 'routine check-up' was much longer than Kirk's ... but... shit happens :|_

_PPS I'm un-beta-ed by the way. So please forgive my mistakes :(_

_PPPS I love Spock, no worries, so if I insult him.. it's all in good faith ;)_

The mess hall was nearly empty by the time Chekov met up with Sulu. He had taken his time walking there, all the while brooding over his trip to the sickbay. He knew things like this shouldn't bother him. He knew that most normal people would have exited the sickbay after a check-up (or anything else) with a look of either relief or annoyance at the doctor's attitude. But not him. The only thing Pavel felt was awkward and flushed, but yet still a bit exhilarated. He could still feel McCoy's cool, smooth hands pressed against his arm, and hear his voice quietly assessing. He also was highly aware that the grumpy, divorced and much older man was far from interested in men, let alone seventeen year old navigators. Pursuing the doctor, or even considering a relationship with him, was out of the question. He knew he should just...what was the phrase again? Quit while he was ahead? Even that didn't sound right, seeing as he had never been ahead in the first place.

The Ensign was so engrossed in his thoughts, that as he approached the table that Sulu sat waiting at, he promptly tripped over a chair leg and sprawled rather ungracefully onto the polished floor. Naturally, this jolted him painfully back into reality and made him aware of the sound of Sulu laughing from where he watched.

"Why is it that every time I've seen you today, you're lying on the floor?" he asked, rising from his seat and helping his friend up off the ground.

"I did not see chair." Chekov grimaced, "Or maybe it is sign that I need to skip today's shift and go back to sleep?"

"I'm not sure the Captain would appreciate it if we attempted to fly to Orthios without a navigator," Sulu responded, leading his friend out of the mess hall, carefully avoiding collisions with any more furniture."What took you so long up there anyways? I was worried that McCoy had locked you in the medical bay, performing weird experiments on you and injecting you with various substances."

Yet again, a blush crept up to Chekov's cheeks. He forced a small laugh. "Nyet, it was just normal check-up." He stated almost too quickly. The Ensign recovered."He was actually not in a bad mood when I was there. He did not walk around grumbling and scowling, we even had short conversation." Chekov then smiled a bit, "So maybe you will be safe from his moods when you go up later today."

"You mean _if _I go up today." Sulu grinned mischievously, "I might pull a Captain Kirk and make up some far-fetched reason for skipping it, then hold off on going for a few months."

"You cannot do that Hikaru!" shocked, Chekov shook his head vigorously."It is rude, and it won't be bad if you go and just get it over with. Plus, Dr. McCoy will find you and be very angry."

"Relax, I'll go sometime today," Sulu ruffled his friends hair affectionately, "but only if we get off early, because I don't think the doctor would appreciate me stopping in for a late-night visit."

"Fine... go tomorrow then, but right in the morning!"

"Yes, mother" the helmsman joked, pulling Chekov behind him through a set of doors.

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The scene on the bridge was like any other day for the Alpha shift. The Captain sat in his chair, swivelling it around with a smirk on his face as he and Spock bickered over some problem with the warp nacelles. To a stranger, the Captain and his First Officer would have seemed to hold extremely high levels of animosity towards the other. To someone who had known them for the time they had served on the Enterprise together, (which had not been long, mind you) it was quite obvious that underlying the arguments and insults, there was a layer of humor and amiableness. As Chekov and Sulu sat down at their consoles, it seemed like the argument was beginning to heat up. Ignoring it, the navigator jabbed a few buttons on the screen and repeated the authorization code that allowed him to access the system. He was surprised to see that despite his accent, he was successful the first attempt.

Sulu noticed this as well, and smiled across the console at him, but not before taunting good-naturedly, "Wictor wictor."

Chekov also remembered that first day on the bridge. He glared jokingly back at his best friend, "Is the parking break on?" He quoted Pike after Sulu's embarrassing first try at piloting the Enterprise. His friend just laughed and turned back to his work.

"Touché, my friend, touché.

The conversation brought back other memories for Chekov of that first few days, when they all were trying to adjust to the new people, a new environment, and their Captain's awkward way of commanding them. In Chekov's opinion, his first humiliating moment didn't even have to do with his accent. Sure, having to repeatedly try to access the computer because he had a difficulty pronouncing his 'v's was a little bothersome, but nothing compared to his first interaction with Leonard McCoy. He had seen the man accompanying the Captain when he first entered the ship, and the few other times saw he him on the bridge, the Russian had found him quite intriguing. He was the opposite of Chekov. Loud, passionate, outspoken, and generally short-tempered. He never imagined that McCoy would be a doctor. Maybe a hardened engineer or security worker. Regardless, the Ensign still admired the man from afar. Not that he had any idea that a few weeks later, at his check-up, the feelings of admiration would turn into what Chekov considered to be a completely inappropriate crush.

Sighing, the navigator thought back to that first day; that first exchange of words.

"_....the planet's rings will make us invisible to Nero's sensors. From there, as long as the drill is not activated, we can beam aboard the enemy's ship." Chekov finished explaining his idea to the Captain._

_"Aye, that might work." Scotty nodded as he continued to dry himself off from his and Kirk's warp onto the Enterprise._

_Bones turned to Chekov, saying incredulously, "Wait a minute kid, how old are you?" _

_Chekov was used to this sort of question, and took any sort of shock at his age as a compliment. "Seventeen, sir." He answered proudly. It was then that McCoy said the stinging comment, _

_"Oh..oh good, he's seventeen." Bones glanced at Kirk in disbelief..._

Luckily, Chekov was saved from any further humiliation as Spock entered the room, and confirmed the teen's statement. He had known all along that there was no doubt in his calculations, but the doctor's sarcastic comment showed that he would need to do a lot more than show his intelligence to earn the respect of his fellow crewmembers. It was from then on that the navigator became incredibly nervous around Bones, as further screw-ups in the presence of the man that he admired so much would be almost unbearable.

As his shift wore on these thoughts raced through his head. In the background, he could hear Kirk continuously hitting on Uhura, arguing with Spock, spouting out orders and bantering with Scotty over the com, although not necessarily in that order. He only glanced up after hearing a crash coming from the other side of the bridge. Chekov turned around. As it seemed, one of Kirk and Spock's arguments had gotten out of hand, and caused the Captain to fling his tricorder at the now irate-looking Vulcan. Kirk seemed to notice that the bridge had fallen silent and multiple pairs of eyes were now fixed on him. He grinned sheepishly,

"Sorry for the interruption...as you were." Kirk commanded them and turned once more to Spock.

"I still can't believe that you don't like the cookies that the replicator in the mess hall makes...."

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As the daytime hours waned, the helm team prepared for warp. This particular journey required absolute precision. The Enterprise had to be pulled out of warp at the exact moment, or it would overshoot its destination and collide with one of the two suns that sat adjacent to the planet Orthios. Currently, final calculations were being made and checked before the starship began her final voyage before the crew's well-earned shore leave.

Kirk sat tapping his fingers impatiently.

"How long until arrival Mr. Sulu?"

"Two hours, sixteen minutes, five seconds, nineteen milliseconds, aaand about nine point two parsecs."

"....I appreciate your briefness."

"I do what I can." Came the helmsman's response. The com at Kirk's chair beeped.

_"Engines are primed and ready Captain, she's ready for warp."_ Scotty's voice caused the Captain to straighten up and the usual devilish grin re-appeared on his face.

"Alright! The away team is Lt. Uhura, Ensign Chekov, Lt. Rancourt and myself. All of you should prepare yourselves for immediate departure upon our arrival at Orthios. The rest, just do your thing; maintain the ship, keep her in orbit, man the beaming pad, all that jazz." He turned to Sulu, "Thrusters on full, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir."

Within seconds, the ship had pulled into warp five, slicing through space like a knife through thin paper. Chekov, sitting at the helm, never failed to be overcome by a sense of awe as he watched objects zip past through the vast expanse of space. Stars, planets, even galaxies, they all were within the grasp of man, yet still, no amount of time could ever allow each stellar entity to be visited or even seen. As a child, Chekov would look up at the Russian sky, eyes glued to the black canvas littered with millions of tiny lights. Even then, he thirsted for knowledge of the universe; wanted to explore the world outside his own small one.

_"Your reach exceeds your grasp, Pavel." _His father would always say. Convinced that one day, the boy would get his head out of the clouds and take up his duties as heir to the family business. But no, Chekov was certain that his future resided above him, in space. At Starfleet. He knew that his father underestimated the extent of his grasp, or the lengths he would go to achieve what he wanted.

_That's where this whole problem began._ He mused. No stupid dreams or disobedient tendencies would mean no Starfleet. No Starfleet meant no Leonard McCoy.

_Was that such a bad thing though?_

He frowned. Every train of thought he had seemed to lead back to the doctor. He felt like a teenage girl obsessing over a new crush...A handsome, intelligent, strong, bad-tempered, out-of-his-league crush. He smacked his palm against his forehead, as if trying to banish any thoughts of the doctor away by force.

He looked up to see Sulu giving him a quizzical look_. "You okay?"_ He mouthed.

Chekov nodded absentmindedly in response, turning back to focus on his console. His frown deepened as he scanned over the readings. Something seemed off. Commander Spock's next statement confirmed his worries.

"Captain, if my readings are correct we have set a collision course for Phaeton, the larger of Orthios' two suns."

Kirk spun around, his face void of any panic he felt inside. "Can you pull us out of it?"

"It is a navigational error." Spock stared pointedly at the young navigator who sat at the helm, looking for all the world like a child being reprimanded by an adult for being caught breaking the rules.

"We have approximately two point three minutes to change our course." Spock stated, turning to the crew, "I suggest everyone prepares to pull suddenly out of our current warp."

Kirk ran to the com, "Scotty, get the engines ready for a very quick stop, and fast!" He then turned to the place where the navigator sat.

"Mr. Chekov, wait, no, Spock, plot out our new course." Chekov quickly got up and allowed the Vulcan to relieve his position. Within seconds, the crew could feel the ship straining against the force of its momentum, until it rammed to a sudden stop. Chekov, who was standing during the process, found himself slammed against the portside turbolift door. He groaned at the impact and slid to the floor, nursing his arm. Sulu was at his side helping him up in seconds.

"You alright?" He asked worriedly.

"I am..fine, Hikaru, really."

"Then can you explain exactly what happened there?" The Captain strode up to him, a stern look clouding his normally at-ease features.

"I must of...have miscalculated our tr-trajectory." He stumbled over his english, blushing. This usually happened when he was nervous. Kirk shook his head.

"Do you realize what could have happened if Spock didn't notice your mistake? We could have flown right into Photon-"

"Phaeton." Spock corrected him.

"-or whatever, and been completely incinerated. Because of one foolish miscalculation." Kirk finished. He pressed the keypad, opening the turbolift door and gesturing inside. "Go get your arm checked out or something. Mr. Sulu will relieve you of your position on the away team. Just...take a break."

Chekov entered the lift without looking back, lest someone see the blush that covered his face. As the door closed, he caught a glimpse of Sulu's apologetic and worried face staring after him. He exited the lift on the next floor, intent on avoiding the sickbay, and an encounter with McCoy, at all costs. Having the entire bridge crew and his best friend witness his mistake was bad enough. The whole ship would have felt the Enterprise's abrupt stop, and everyone would be wondering who had caused such a problem. Then, when everyone found out that it was he, Pavel Chekov who had made the near-fatal miscalculation, they would shrug and state that he was just a kid; passing off his mistake as age related.

Chekov hated that. He was just as capable as anyone else in completing his duties, underage or not.

He quickened his steps down the corridor as he heard voices coming from behind him. Quickly turning a corner to dodge the owners of the voices, he grunted as he collided with another body. He mumbled an apology and continued on, not looking up, for fear of the person recognizing him.

"Ensign?" Came the voice of the man he ran into. The voice of none other than Leonard McCoy.

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Then they had passionate buttsecks (: The End.

HA. Just Kiddin'..

Review, my loves ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note (the brand spankin' new format) :  
Firstly, sorry this is moving so slow... but worry not, your prayers will be answered soon! And updates may not be very often, but I'm trying. I just want to get as much done in the last few weeks of summer. **

**Love.**

Begin Chapter 4 :

Chekov couldn't believe his bad luck. After all his problems that day, he had to run into the one person that could make things a thousand times worse without even realizing it. He turned to the older man.

"Sorry sir, I was not looking where I was going" he continued to avoid the doctor's gaze, making as if to continue down the hall.

"It's alright, just watch where you're going next time." He noticed that the Ensign was holding his arm protectively against his body. "You okay, kid?" He said, pointing.

"Da sir, I am fine."

"Sure doesn't look like it." he said, stepping forward "There's something wrong with your arm." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Nyet, I just bumped it on my way here, it is fine, really." He stared up into McCoy's eyes, as if daring him to press the issue further. The doctor obliged.

"You should get that checked out. Oh, don't try to deny it," he stated firmly as Chekov opened his mouth to protest, "I'm a doctor, not a mind-reader, but I can always tell when someone's trying to bullshit their way out of a trip to the medical bay."

Chekov shook his head, "I am fine! See, no problems."

He lifted his arm up as if to prove it, then brought it down with a grimace of pain, all the while backing up, as to make a quick getaway down the adjacent hall.

"Cut the crap, kid. If you're going to be so stubborn, I'll bring you there myself then." McCoy grabbed the Ensign by his good arm and led him gently back the way he came.

"You have bad habit of dragging unwilling subjects to the medical bay." Chekov observed, trying to get his mind off the man's hand grasping his arm, or how their hips brushed together when he accidently moved in too close.

"It's my job." Bones replied gruffly, his mind following the same path as the young man's beside him. _This kid is going to be the death of me..._

Their eyes met for a split second before McCoy glanced up quickly, focusing on getting the Ensign to their destination. Chekov blushed, turning his head so that the doctor could not see his expression.

This was unsuccessful. Bones quickly looked back, only to see the slight blush creep onto the navigator's high cheekbones. His face looked almost angelic, if it weren't for the slight grimace of pain that still resided there.

Luckily, it was Chekov who broke the awkward silence with a question, although he already knew the answer to it.

"What did you leave the sickbay for? You were headed for the bridge."

McCoy snorted, "I was going to ask the Captain what the hell happened a few minutes ago. He gave no warning whatsoever, then suddenly half the medical staff are thrown off their feet in an emergency stop. He won't answer the com either." He glanced down at Chekov, "I guess you'd know what happened, your shift is now isn't it? It was probably it was another one of Kirk's stupid mistakes."

"It was a...miscalculation." Chekov sighed in resignation, averting his eyes.

McCoy noticed this look, immediately understanding the situation.

"Oh, really... does it have anything to do with why you're wandering the halls instead of sitting at the helm?" The two entered the sickbay and McCoy gestured for Chekov to lift himself onto one of the beds.

"Da..yes." The young man stared down at the floor dejectedly as he explained what happened.

McCoy felt a surge of compassion flow through him. The navigator was only a teenager, he should be worried about what brand of shirt he was wearing, not the correct trajectory of a starship.

"I'm going to kill Kirk next time I see him," Muttered the doctor, "A simple mistake is nothing to suspend you from an away mission for. Sure, we all may have all been burnt to a crisp," McCoy gave Chekov a rare grin, "But as far as I know, you're usually pretty consistent in accurate calculations."

Chekov couldn't help but to grin back. He then decided that McCoy should smile much more often.

Bones turned his attention to the teen's arm.

"Roll up your sleeve."

Chekov did so, holding it out as McCoy drifted the medical tricorder around it. He sat in silence, simply taking in the presence of the older man. Through his Starfleet uniform, traces of a lean, toned body could be seen through the fabric. A final beep from the tricorder broke through the quiet, and the doctor spoke.

"Looks like a hairline fracture to the radius, I'm gonna have to put it in a brace. Other than that, you'll be fine." He reached into a translucent cabinet beside him, pulling out the proper brace and strapping it to Chekov's arm. "Try to stay away from any rigorous physical activity for a while. You can come back in a few days so I can check up on it."

He then took out a hypospray, "This is just for the pain."

As he reached forward to jab it into the Ensign's neck, the tricorder dropped off the counter with a light clatter, but it was enough to make Chekov turn his head quickly, causing the hypo to enter his neck at a painful angle. He yelped in response, his hand shooting up to his neck.

"Shit! Jesus, kid, I'm sorry." McCoy leaned forward to check for any damage. "It still injected properly, at least."

Chekov shivered as the man's fingers trailed along his neck.

"I-it is okay, it was my fault, I should not have moved..." he trailed off, his face inches from the doctor's. He could feel the man's soft breath against his neck. Bones turned his head, brown eyes meeting large hazel ones. _Shit._

Chekov blinked, shaking as the gap between him and McCoy grew smaller. Then, unsure whether it was by his own doing or the doctor's, their lips touched. It was light at first, unsure, tentative.

Neither of them knew if the other was going to pull away suddenly, but both were filled with desire for the other. As he felt Pavel lean into the kiss, McCoy deepened it, moving his hand from its position on the teen's neck to cup the back of his head, fingers lacing themselves his soft curls. Feeling this action, Chekov also lifted his good arm up, pulling himself even closer to the other man. Their bodies pressed together, McCoy let his tongue travel along Pavel's bottom lip, earning him a light groan. The sound aroused him and he pressed on, his tongue now entering the younger man's mouth.

_Younger..._ This brought McCoy back to reality. What if they were seen? The kid wasn't even eighteen, for crying out loud! He pulled out of the kiss abruptly, Chekov staring at him with a hurt expression on his face, looking just about ready to cry.

"I-I'm sorry kid," the doctor shook his head, backing quickly away, "It would be best if you left."

Chekov needed no more urging. He slid from the biobed and left without a backward glance.

McCoy watched him go, and all the while he felt an emptiness consume him. He, who had gone through marriage, divorce and many other relationships in between, couldn't even handle kissing a seventeen year old.

_He's underage_. A voice in his head reminded him. _What did you expect? Why did you have to do something stupid like that in the first place, damn it? _

McCoy entered his office, slamming the door behind him. Within seconds, his ever-present flask of whiskey was in his hand and he had downed his first drink. He knew it was ridiculous to sit and wallow in self-pity; to angst over a situation he himself had caused.

_He kissed you back._

He swore under his breath, not that there was anyone around to hear him. He had screwed himself, and bad. Gotten himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Any attempt to block the Russian from his life would cause them both pointless amounts of emotional pain. But was it necessary? If he hadn't pulled away, had continued the kiss, who knows what could have happened afterwards?

If anyone had found out it, would cause a shipwide controversy. He could lose his job, and as could Chekov. Starfleet had strict regulations about relationships with your superior officers.

But he didn't really care.

The thought shocked him. He had no idea how far he was willing to go to be with the Ensign. That is, if he didn't pass his feelings off as lust; a simple infatuation, sprung from his sadly failing sex life.

No, he shook his head inwardly. It was against his nature to act in such a way. He knew he could never just use the kid, going by Kirk's seemingly never-fail solution of "love 'em then leave 'em". He either had to act on his emotions, or completely smother them. McCoy frowned. He had always been good at suppressing his emotions, until now, that is. Something about Pavel Chekov had changed that.

He sat at his desk, now-empty flask in hand, brooding, his eyes boring holes through the holoscreen before him. The internal conflict still raged inside. If he decided to go against his better judgement and make amends with Chekov, every aspect of his life would be turned upside down. He would give into his emotions and allow the walls around him to be penetrated, all the while risking his whole career.

_I'm starting to sound like that pointy-eared bastard now... unwilling to show any emotion._

But he would do it.

Pavel Andreivich Chekov had that effect on him.

________________________________________________________________

Eyes brimming with tears, Chekov leaned against the smooth white walls in the hallway outside the sickbay.

He hated crying. It was showing weakness, and people already judged him for his youth. For them to see him cry was to lower himself even more than he already had, and he knew he couldn't afford to do that. Sniffling a bit, he began the journey to his quarters, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone walking by.

Finally, with shaking hands, he accessed the door to his room. It closed with a whoosh behind him, just as he collapsed on his bed, tears now flowing freely down his face. He was overwhelmed with confusion, his body a whirlwind of emotions.

McCoy had kissed him back. Heck, he had partially initiated the kiss! But then he had pulled away, no explanation given, leaving Chekov to wonder. Had he done something wrong? The Ensign let out a small sob, burying his face into the sheets for a few minutes before sitting up and wiping his face. He still could not stop the tears from falling.

As he sat on the bed composing himself, the scene played over and over in his head relentlessly. Each time he saw McCoy pull away, he felt a hard tug on his heart, threatening to bring a new wave of tears streaming down his face.

"Pull yourself together." Chekov muttered to himself in Russian. Sulu would be back soon from his shift and would be wondering what was wrong. It wasn't like the navigator could tell his friend what happened. Walking to the bathroom, he stared into the mirror, barely recognizing the young man looking back at him. His eyes were puffy and red from crying, his body, normally bursting with energy was slumped over as if in defeat. This was not a good look for him, he decided, splashing water on his face and straightening up.

As he slowly walked back into his room, he remembered; Sulu had replaced him on the away mission and would not be back for even a few days. Chekov was alone: temporarily suspended from the bridge and unable to walk around the ship for fear of running into curious crew members, or worse, the doctor.

He felt like a... what was the American term for it?

_Pussy._ He remembered, letting out a sigh.

The only way he could find peace of mind would be to face McCoy and apologize, however embarrassing it would be. This wasn't something he was good at. Years of being ridiculed for who he was had taught him to stay quiet in any situation that could go wrong. But McCoy... everything about him made Chekov want to keep trying, to stand up in front of the world and defy everything he had been taught. He felt lifted up by the man's very presence, and that was what drove him to face Leonard McCoy again.

Little did he know that said man had similar plans.

__________________________________________________

Chekov could tell by the lack of people roaming the halls that it was getting late, and most crew members had headed back to their quarters. He hoped that McCoy was still awake. Chekov knew that unless it was by some random stroke of insanity, he would never be able to convince himself to approach the doctor again.

Bone's quarters were located close to the sickbay, for obvious reasons, but it took the young Russian longer than normal to get there. He walked slowly, thinking through what he would say when he finally came face to face with McCoy.

_"Oh, hello, sir, I just stopped by to apologize for kissing you and causing you to pull away in disgust for some unexplained reason."_

Yeah, right. Somehow, he didn't think that would work to his advantage.

He stopped walking suddenly, seeing he had already arrived at McCoy's door. Chekov took a deep breath, then rang the com hesitantly, stuttering,

"C-can I come in, sir?"

He was surprised when within seconds, McCoy had complied and the door slid open. He was even more shocked when he came face to face with the doctor, soaking wet, clothed only in a towel and looking severely startled.

The navigator, who was already shaking with nervousness, took one look at the half-naked man in front of him and passed out.

__________________

Within a matter of seconds, Leonard McCoy had gone from grouchy, to flustered with embarrassment, and finally to utterly dumbfounded. He now stood staring at a recently functional Pavel Chekov, whom now resided on the floor in front of him.

Bones had no idea that it was the Russian who had rang the com. He had assumed it was another nervous crew member, coming to tell him of some problem or other in the medical bay. Chekov was the last person he expected to approach him, especially after his display earlier.

Bringing his attention back to the situation at hand, bent down and picked the younger man up, praying that no one would pass down the hallway as he did so. McCoy carried him back into the room, setting Chekov down gently on the bed. Glancing behind him every few seconds to see if the Ensign was awake, he pulled on a pair of Starfleet issue sweatpants and shirt.

He was just beginning to towel off his hair as Chekov came around. The young man groaned softly, rubbing his head as he sat up and took in his surroundings. His eyes finally fell upon McCoy, whom was now fully clothed and standing awkwardly near the end of the bed. He sat tensely, clasping his hands, now sweaty with nervousness in his lap.

"I, um, I assume I lost consciousness e-earlier?"

"You assume correctly, Pavel."

Chekov's head jerked up at the sound of his first name. McCoy, noticing this action, gave a little smile and sat down beside him on the bed.

"Listen, kid, -"

"I'm sorry." The teen blurted out before Bones could say any more. "I should not have...have kissed you back – I mean, kissed you. It was stupid. I do not know what came over me."

"Neither do I."

The words seemed harsh to Chekov at first, and he bit his lip, willing himself not to leave right then.

"The question is, Ensign, do you regret it?"

_Did he regret it?_ Truthfully, he did not. The moment had been something almost out of a dream for him. When Chekov thought back, he knew that he would never take back what happened. He plucked up the courage to finally answer.

"No." Then in a move normally to bold for him, he asked, almost angrily, "But you doctor, do you regret it? Did it mean anything? Or was this just game to you? Please, if nothing was meant by the act of kissing me back, I will just take my leave now."

Bones stared at Chekov, shocked by the uncharacteristic outburst. He uncertainly reached out and placed his hand over the younger man's.

"Yes. Yes, what happened back there meant something to me. Hell, it meant more than you know. I just had a hard time dealing with that. I still do. That's why I pulled away." He looked into Chekov's eyes, only to see they were filled with hesitance and doubt.

"Come on, Ensign! You must realize the repercussions of me having feelings of that sort towards you. I don't want you to get hurt. And not by me," He added, standing up and beginning to paced back and forth.

"But had someone found out...if this continued... you _know_ what kind of shit both of us would be subject to. Yeah, I'm aware that it's the freaking twenty third century, and prejudices about this sort of thing are very rare. Starfleet has regulations though. You're an Ensign. I'm the Chief Medical Officer. I didn't want to risk something bad happening. Not without giving you the choice."

"I do not think this has anything to do with choice, sir." Chekov said softly. He stood up and faced the doctor. "I am aware of the situation. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a child. I made my choice a few hours ago in the sickbay. I...I had thought you made yours as well." He turned as if to leave, only to be stopped by Bone's hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, ki-Pavel. I had chosen this ages ago. I obviously didn't have the balls to accept it. Jesus," he shook his head, "I think I'm going crazy. But I don't think this could go any other way." With that, he pulled the navigator into a swift, chaste kiss.

They stood there in each other's embrace for a moment before McCoy spoke again. "So, seeing as neither of us is due for duty anytime soon, I suggest you come with me to the mess hall for some late-night coffee. At least then it will stop people from prying into today's earlier incident."

"Coffee, sir? At night? Isn't that a little unhealthy?" Chekov grinned cheekily up at him, all traces of his former animosity gone.

"Listen, Pavel, I told you earlier...no more of this 'sir' crap. It's Leonard. And sometimes, a bit of unhealthy activity can do you some good." McCoy smiled back at the younger man. "Now get going."

As he followed the Ensign out, McCoy thought about what Pavel had said earlier.

This whole thing had been decided the moment they had kissed. He smiled a bit. It's not like he ever had a choice on the matter to begin with.

**Iight, this ain't over yet, so don't get too excited. **

**And review puhleease (:**


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